Discipline
by Momosportif
Summary: Basically a Geoffrey exaltation/centric fic for Radiant Dawn set between the Marauders and Heart of Crimea battles in which Geoffrey has somewhat of a run in with Valtome. Weird? Yes, it was a challenge to write the two in a fic. Nintendo's peeps. Enjoy!


Discipline

Red armor.

It was everywhere, like an epidemic that shows up in the night and takes out an entire village the next day, an entire kingdom. He picketed his horse with more force than necessary and pulled his gauntlets off roughly as he stormed from the royal stables.

"Where ya goin?" He ignored the query, passing the stall containing his fellow knight in one stride. The usually carefree man leaned over the door and watched his back before calling out, "Hey, Commander!" with a tone of concern.

He was halfway down the stables now.

As he passed another occupied stall, a timid hand extended, reaching out for support. He ignored it along with the soft voice that pleaded,

"Commander…"

His heart was galloping in his chest.

A door at the end of the rows, directly by the exit, was fiercely flung open and yet another obstacle presented itself. He glanced once at the still fully armored knight and found himself unable to match his glare, opting instead to concentrate ahead of him though the weight of those eyes were inescapable. They came level with each other. He flicked his eyes to his again and suddenly his subordinate had grabbed his shoulder, forcefully halting his march.

"Geoffrey! Where do you think you're going!" he shouted, holding him tightly as he jerked his arm away. They glared at each other for a heartbeat before the blue knight seized the constricting hands and forced them off his upper arm, stepping determinedly out of the stable. "GEOFFREY!"

He was across the stable yard already and through the gate.

He stared fixedly forward, looking past the startled glances of already uncomfortable civilians and meeting any Bengion soldier who crossed his path with such a look of contempt that many of them gripped their weapons. People hastened out of his path in the narrow back way that lead to Crimea's castle. He cleared the streets without slowing, taking the stone steps into the palace two at a time and entering the court yard without a word to the sentinels posted at its entrance.

They weren't ready for political interference, they'd _just_ united their country,_ just _ended all the rebellions, they'd_ just_ gotten a chance of hope. And now the senate state had to rear its ugly head. It was oh so convenient that they'd ruled here before, if they hadn't-

Geoffrey paused at the great hall's entrance hearing the unmistakable clack of soldiers on the march. He stood by just in time for a squad of armored halberdiers to parade out.

Their armor was red.

His fury grew all the more intense at the fact that they'd already reached the queen, not because he doubted her parlay skills but because he would have liked to tell whoever was leading the army that they had no right to sabotage the city as they had. A row of swordsmen was followed by a square of soldiers surrounding the man he'd been waiting to see, the senate's commander. Geoffrey was a first class soldier, he was trained to be unnoticeable to the eyes of politicians, but for some reason the white robed man glimpsed him.

"Halt…" The metal clad feet took a final step, feet together, and stopped. Geoffrey scowled evenly as the pampered noble stepped outside his escort and stood in front of him, one hand raised with forefinger and little finger daintily extended, barely touching his sickly smiling lips.

"And what have we here?" The commander of the Royal Knights stared defiantly into the blue-shaded eyes of the positively offensive excuse for a man, unflinching. A humorless laugh slipped between painted lips. "When a senator speaks to you, you need to respond, hm?" Geoffrey remained immobile, suppressing the violent urge to grab the man by his lace collared throat and throw him at his own troops.

The smile widened still.

"Uwee hee hee! What patriotism!" A pale, thin, bejeweled finger lightly touched under Geoffrey's chin. "What's your name, knight?" In response to refusal to answer, the pressure of the finger increased until Geoffrey was forced to tilt his head up. "You're a pretty boy, you know, it's a pity," his high pitched voice had dropped considerably in volume, "but if you love Crimea so much, I suggest you leave, or you'll have to die." He smiled sweetly and giggled before removing his finger and sweeping his robe as he turned and again entered the ranks of his entourage. "Toodles!" he called, waving his fingers as the troop resumed its march back into the city streets. Geoffrey glared after them, clenched fists trembling with the exertion of keeping them still.

But he was a first class soldier. He knew when to stand down. He took a deep, stabilizing breath and reached a genuine state of calm before entering the front hall.

He also knew when to disobey orders.


End file.
